


Voldemort Knew My Father

by WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-25 00:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2601419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo/pseuds/WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter's sons live in the shadow of his reputation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voldemort Knew My Father

Albus looked in the mirror over his desk. He looked back down at the History of Magic book he was supposed to be studying. This was ridiculous. Not the scary moving photo of the guy with the red eyes and the green coming out of his wand - well, he did look a bit ridiculous too, what with the lack of nose and everything – but the other picture: the young man all smoky and sweaty from the battle, the hero of Hogwarts, his father.

It was bad enough that there was an enormous portrait of him in the Common Room, a statue at the Ministry, a bust in the Head's office and a life-sized model in the Library, but now he was supposed to be concentrating on his essay while his own face stared out victoriously at him.

Everyone else in the class would be studying the same page of the same book tonight. In the lesson tomorrow, they would all point and snigger again. Some people were impressed, of course, but that was even worse. Albus knew that nothing he would do could ever impress them. They just wanted to be near to him because he was the son of Harry Potter.

It wasn't quite so bad for James; at least he didn't look like the Chosen One. But he didn't have it much easier. The picture on the next page was of the three heroes – the golden trio – receiving their Order of Merlin medals. You didn't have to squint too hard to make the two boys look like him and James.

Al had been asked out by people, but he could never know if it was him they fancied, or if he was a prop to a fantasy. Most young wizards and witches had action figures and posters and stickers and pyjamas which looked remarkably similar to how he did. How could they ever see him as himself?

The world expected him to do great things, but there was nothing he could ever do which would outshine the achievements of those who had come before. There was only one person who could really understand the pressures of being Harry Potter's son. Only one boy would love him as Albus and not as the pale reflection of the famous Harry.

Slamming his book shut, he climbed the stairs as he so often did, and knocked on the door as he so often did. James opened it and smiled. Luckily his room mates were all elsewhere, so they climbed behind the bed curtains. James ran his fingers through the messy black hair which he knew his brother resented so often. He didn't need to know what had brought this on this time; he just needed to know how to make Al feel better; and he did.

They lay back – knowing without speaking – they kissed, they undressed. James stroked his brother's skin, soothing, caressing, massaging. Then he licked him. Albus let his eyes close and the day float away from him. James opened his throat and sucked Albus' flesh down, squeezing his balls, dancing his fingers on his perineum. Then his head moved up and down and his tongue twisted from side to side.

When Albus came he whimpered and James swallowed, pulling all the pressure out of him and making it disappear.


End file.
